


Zevwarden Week Day 1: Climate Change

by plutoshero



Series: Gay Warden [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: M/M, ZevWarden Week, i decided to do both zevrans reaction to the cold and arrens reaction to the heat, im the host of the damn event and im 2 days behind lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 21:41:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18484924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plutoshero/pseuds/plutoshero
Summary: Zevran complains about the cold and Arren doesn't complain about the heat.





	Zevwarden Week Day 1: Climate Change

It was yet another bleak Fereldon night, and their journey to elusive Haven left most of the Wardens travelling companions shivering or complaining.  Most of all the Antivan elf who still sat with his teeth chattering despite being seated by the fire as soon as camp was set. He tugged his cloak tighter around himself, cursing this country yet again as another breeze blew through the camp.  He had exchanged his preferred leathers and skirts for warmer clothes that still gave him adequate movement during battle, but he felt it did little to protect him from the snowy climate.

Zevran stared at the fire, thinking of the warm Antivan sun; of lounging on the beach and small stuffy apartments in the summer.  He was so lost in his reminiscent longing that he didn’t notice the leader of their group coming to him until a blanket was draped over his shoulders.  Arren sat next to Zevran, wearing his own wolf pelt cloak, though he had not been as quick as Zevran to give up his traditional Dalish armor.

 

“I don’t know how you do it, my Warden.” Zevran sighed, leaning against the warm body.  “As much as I enjoy staring at your thighs behind that skirt, I would certainly hate for them to freeze off.”  Arren just shrugged, scooting closer.

 

“I’m used to it.  Cold days and even colder nights outdoors is not uncommon for the Dalish.”

 

“In Antiva, it rarely gets colder than what your fellow Warden complained was a ‘heat wave’ weeks back.  I fear if he ever were to visit he would pass out from the heat.”

 

“Unfortunate indeed, seeing as I don’t believe you are strong enough to carry him somewhere cooler on your own.”  Normally Zevran would have a witty retort, dramatically claim offense to such low expectations. Instead he just shrugged, earning a hum from the Warden.  “Here, hold this and let me see your face.”

 

From under his cloak Arren pulled a small steaming cup, handing it to Zevran’s gloved hands.  When Wynne had produced a pair of mittens, a scarf, and a warm hat for him, Zevran had practically wept in joy.  To show his gratitude he had lessened his comments about her bosom...for a day or so. They now protected him from immediately burning his hands as they warmed quickly from the hot tea.  When he took a sip of it he sighed in relief, even if it did burn his tongue a little.

 

Doing as instructed, he turned towards the Warden, who was rubbing a white salve on his hands.  He cupped Zevran’s face, gently applying the ointment. Zevran was quick to hide his surprise, instead focusing on the warmth of Arren’s hands, not just for the ice salve or body heat either.  There was something oddly intimate about being this close; about the way Arren slowly rubbed small circles on his cheeks; how he watched his thumb barely skim over the Antivan’s lips; how when he was done he met Zevran’s eye and smiled softly.

 

“It is not much, though I hope it helps some.”

 

“Ah, Warden, you know your touch could melt any frozen heart.  Just look at how you have weasled your way into the hearts of our dear Qunari and Witch of the Wilds!”

 

“Mmhm.  And how would you like to weasle your way into my tent when you are done with your tea?”  He held up a finger, stopping whatever comment Zevran was about to make, though his rare smile did not fade.  “It is far warmer to  _ sleep _ alongside another, than in your own tent, yes?” 

 

“Indeed!  In which case, I shall continue to be another game for your hunter eyes to catch, for I am not one to turn down sleeping with such a handsome man.  Even if it is for  _ actual  _ sleeping.”  Zevran laughed before taking another drink from his tea.  It was cooling down far too quickly for his liking. While he finished his drink Arren rose and turned in for the night.  Zevran quickly drank the rest, letting it warm his throat, before he followed the Dalish.

 

Unfortunately he was not surprised to see the Wardens Mabari curled up in the tent for its own warmth.  Arren took off his cloak, draping it over the dog, then crawled under his blankets. Fereldons and their dogs…

 

“Thank you for warming Zevran’s spot Falon’Din, now please scoot over.”  Obediently the dog shifted to have enough room between himself and the other elf for Zevran to lay in.

 

“You asked the dog to warm a spot for me?”  He put his extra blanket and his cloak on top of their pile for the night to add extra layers, then situated himself between the two.

 

“I did.  I also asked him to sleep on your other side, instead of at my feet, so you can have body heat on each sides.  What is that shemlen saying? Like a sandwich?” Zevran smiled fondly, turning to face Arren, watching the other get comfortable and close his eyes.

 

“Well thank you, dear Warden.  Your thought and care into making me comfortable is quite touching.”

 

“Do not let that sentence wander into what else you’d like me to touch.”

 

Zevran sighed dramatically.  “Only in my dreams then.” Arren simply hummed in response, wrapping an arm around Zevran’s waist.  Behind him the Mabari exhaled heavily, snuggling closer and quickly falling asleep. Even the assassin could not help but drift into a comfortable,  _ warm _ , slumber; sandwiched between the loving touch of his Warden, and their dog.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Arren had only been in Antiva for two weeks, but given the circumstances he had yet to be given a tour, or even adapt, and the Hero of Fereldon was not faring well.  Not that he would say so, he didn’t want his Bonded to worry. Instead he watched Zevran from the shadows as he trained new Crow recruits. Since becoming quite the menace to the Crow houses, Zevran had gained a decent sized following.  Though most were well trained on the field, some still needed help, and there was always something to learn from each other.

 

Arren had come to Antiva after clearing up things at Vigils Keep, eager to be by Zevran’s side again.  Now he followed the other elf’s lead and taught some of the ex-crows archery. However, his heart wasn’t quite in it.  He wanted to help, truly, but he was having a hard time concentrating. He felt foolish honestly, he was Dalish! He should be used to working in difficult weather!  Plus Zevran had spent near two years in Fereldon, which was on the opposite end of the spectrum, and was still useful. Yet here he was, hiding in the shadows, dreading having to step into the court to teach.

 

When he saw Zevran step inside to deal with some paperwork he sighed and stepped out, taking it as his cue to watch over the recruits.  He was politely greeted by most as he weaved through their skirmishes to those at the shooting range. He supervised, occasionally looking over the rest of the court to take notes of anyone standing out for Zevran.  He was pulled away from his observations by one of the newer recruits, who had wanted to take up archery despite not having raised a bow before.

 

“ Disculpe, señor, ¿Podría por favor volver a mostrarme?”  Arrens ear twitched, looking down at the...well child. Zevran had taught him some Antivan over the years but…

 

“ Niño más lento.  Dilo otra vez.”  _  Slower child.  Say it again. _

 

“Lo siento.”   _ Sorry.  _  This time the girl pretended to draw back a bow, raising an eyebrow and speaking slowly. “ ¿ Por favor, muéstrame?”  _  Please, show me? _

 

“Ah.  Sí.” He stepped forward, taking the bow off his back.  He walked her through the steps of proper stance and tips for aiming, though when he stared down the shaft of the arrow at his target he frowned.  He blinked hard several times, yet he still couldn’t seem to focus on it. As his world continued to spin he noticed the weight of his bow making his hand shake, and the numbness in the fingers that drew the string.  Trying to take a deep breath he lowered his bow, stepping back.

 

“M-Muéstrame lo que haces primero.”   _ Show me what you do first.   _ She nodded and stepped up, raising the bow.  His head pounded as he watched her miss the first target and he gently instructed her on how to fix her stance.  He tried giving her tips for aiming but he kept stumbling over his words. When he started swaying a little she stopped.

 

“ ¿ Señor Héroe?  ¿Estas bien?”

“Yes- Sí…I just need...”  Arren was unable to finish his sentence however.  As he fell to the floor he heard her yelling for Zevran, then he blacked out.

 

He woke in a bed, and stared at the ceiling while he waited for his ability to focus and remember  _ what just happened  _ returned.  Said process was interrupted a minute later when someone walked in the room.

 

“The great Hero of Fereldon, slayer of Archdemons, bested by the Antivan sun.”  Arren lifted his head to glare at the blond elf in the doorway, before laying his head back down and closing his eyes with a heavy exhale.

 

“I hate you.”  He heard Zevran gasp and close the door as he came further in.

 

“You wound me, mi amor.  Such cruel things to say to the one who carried you out of harms way to our cool interior.”  Despite his teasing Zevran sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand lightly over Arren’s forehead.  In his warm smile Arren saw the concern he joked around, so he smiled back.

 

“Ma serannas, ma vhenen.  I’m ok now, though I think I will take the rest of the day off, if that’s alright?”

 

“Of course mi amor.  In the future do not hesitate to tell me if you need a break, and stay hydrated!  I  _ will  _ recruit someone to be your personal health watch if needed.  Follow you around and fan you, bring you water, a lounge chair in the shade.”  Opening one eye Arren could see the smirk back on his Bonded’s face. He scowled.

 

“You wouldn’t.”

 

“Try me.”  Zevran winked, rising to his feet and to the door.  He paused, glancing back at the elf in bed, smile softening.  “Rest mi amor. I will handle things from here. And tomorrow, if you are feeling well enough, I will finally take you sightseeing.”  Arren hummed, eyeing Zevran.

 

“I believe I already am.”  All he got in response was a laugh as Zevran left, closing the door to let his Warden sleep.


End file.
